Finishing Work on the Last Pastel Paintings of the Year

“After the Storm,” 9 ½ x 16 on black Art Spectrum Colourfix paper

Original photo courtesy: Wanda Santii

December 24: I haven’t been motivated much lately. I’ve gone in the studio a couple times and did some sky work … and I know I’m overworking it, but I just can’t get it like I want it. Time is slipping by and I’m not sure I’ll get this done for 2020.

Today, I was working on another and to take a break from that, I did a little more on this. The area around the sun continues to show the texture of the paper. I can’t get it smooth, so I gave up and worked downward. I laid in some fog in the mountains with a peach color, then, using a very dark green, started the trees.

Here is another example where doing some of the lower work helps pull the sky together. It doesn’t look bad from a distance. 

December 25: I worked more on the sky again. I’m not satisfied with the texture and color around the sun. I added highlights with more tree definition. It doesn’t look bad from a distance, but there’s something that isn’t feeling quite right to me. 

December 26: In looking at the progress photo, I made notes on what to improve. Wanda’s original photo is more orangey, which I like a lot.

December 27: Making headway. The color, muddiness, and paper texture showing through on the sky is aggravating. I can’t get the smoothness I love.

I was disappointed, but as I moved farther down and worked the trees and fog, it started pulling together. I like when that happens, and, of course, once I really get into the foreground, the entire painting really takes shape.  

But as happens so often, I don’t seem to have the exact colors as in the photograph. (And I have lots of colors!) As long as I look at the painting as its own work of art and don’t compare it to the photo, it’s not bad.

December 29: Meant to get in the studio yesterday but had company in the afternoon. So, it was the next morning when I spent half an hour at the easel. I smoothed out the sky a little. I’m wondering if the pastel is just too thick.

I continued the tree work adding other colors and hints of sunlight/lifting fog. I used a lot of Sennelier black which disintegrates as I work with it.

I added color to the grassy hill and started the left-hand foreground trees. I like it, but I think I need to smooth out the sky.

I’m excited to do more. It is possible I could finish this in the next day or so.

Pastel Painting: A Year in Review 2020

As the year 2020 comes to a close, I think about the accomplishments with my paintings. It’s been a year of wondrous highs, extreme challenges, and despairing lows, but my creativity continues to evolve which makes me happy.

Photo: "On the Coneflower"

 Creativity itself is the high and when the muses are present, my emotions soar with flaming excitement. However, every painting has its challenges and it’s frustrating when I think I’ve overcome one issue only to face it again on another painting. Then there are the times when my emotional state is at rock bottom and I can’t get out of my own way and the creative fire is doused with cold water.

The year started out on a high with two people wanting the last painting I did for 2019. So, I did another. It was kind of cool to end one year and begin the next using the same photo. Of course, I made changes so the two paintings are not exactly the same. 

Early on I was challenged with doing more paintings this year than last year and I’ve been able to pull that off in spite of the horrendous events of the year. It’s certainly been a challenge with pandemics, country in political chaos, and lack of easily accessible art shows. 

 

I began using other people’s photos I’d see on Facebook (always with their permission and giving them photo credits) because I don’t go out much anymore.  I’ve still used photos of florals taken in my yard and old photos, but when I see a photo on Facebook that really calls to me, I have to ask permission. Everyone has been so gracious.

Photo: "Foggy Winter Morn." Original photo courtesy Wanda Santti.

In late summer, a hard decision was made not to mat and frame any more paintings. Oh, the paintings look amazing when double matted and framed, but as I’m not participating in any shows, there are no sales, therefore the expense of framing is not wise.

Roadblocks and challenges

Questions run rampant in my brain and easily drive me crazy. There are many possibilities and when I can’t make decisions, my mind just spins around until I collapse in depression. These issues have repeated throughout the year.

Sometimes the painting goes OK, and other times, it’s such a struggle. I just can’t seem to get it… I don’t want to say “right” because it isn’t about right or wrong, but whether I’m satisfied. Then I’ll let time pass before I dare tackle the painting again, but eventually, I finish – whether I deem it good enough or not – it’s time to move on. (And from a distance, they all look good.)

Another challenge is with the difference between the inspiration photo printed on regular copy paper, which I take in the studio to work from, and how the original photo looks on the computer. I’m missing crispness, darkness, contrast, and proper vibrancy an original photo has.

Yet, in a way, the painting is OK as it is. I’m not trying to make it exact to the original, except I love that vibrancy in the original photos which I’m not able to attain in the painting. Then, too, if I’m not comparing the original photo to the painting, the painting usually looks pretty darn good.

The lesson here is to not compare the original photo to the painting. After all, I’m not a photo realist. The photo is only for inspiration. Yes, a goal for 2021 is to figure out how to create more vibrancy in pastel, but it’s really not important, for now anyway.

What’s been challenging me mostly lately is why can I do some fog scenes well and in the next one, the scene ends up looking muddy? Why do I do some awesome skies and water, and in other paintings, the darker horizon and foreground pastel dust muddies the sky and water?

Should I sit to work?

This is a question that’s been on my mind for a while. Much of my work, writing and editing, is done sitting by the computer, so I need standing up time. I’ve been standing up at easels for years to do charcoal drawings and pastel paintings. Now I’m doubting how I’m seeing the scene. I stand up painting, however, when I look at the progress photos, I’m sitting which not only puts me at a slightly different angle to the scene, but closer, and I see areas I want to “fix.” This means repeated trips to the painting which means it takes me longer to do a painting than some others.

Photo: "Mirrored Autumn" is in its final stages, still not quite done. Will I finish it by Dec. 31? 

I have to recognize, too, is my style of painting means I need more time to finesse to make me happy with the picture. My artist friend, Nan, keeps saying I’ve chosen harder scenes this year.

I’m happy with what I accomplished this year. I’m considering reorganizing my studio again. I revamped it twice already.

Color Beneath Color and Partnership with the Muse

I spend a couple minutes looking out the window giving my brain a break from trying to put words to the topic of color beneath color. My mind usually takes in the scope of what I’m seeing, the full picture, so to speak. However, if I pull my focus down to, say, a small group of leaves hanging on a branch, I start seeing individual details. The longer I look, the more detail I see lines, shapes, shadowing, and light areas.

My eyes drop lower to the brook. This morning there are dollops of foam around each rock; marshmallow fluff, looking good enough to lick. I’m taken in. I want photos, but it’s so cold out there this morn, just barely over 20 degrees. I’m so intrigued, though.

I bundle up, take out a little bird seed and a suet feeder. I also clean the bird bath and put in fresh water. The deicer keeps the water from freezing allowing Leo-kitty and the birds access to drinking water. 

I’m at the railing taking a few photos when I feel something soft and warm brushing against my legs. Ah, Leo’s here for his morning visit. He jumps up on the bench, stretches his front paws to the bird bath and has a little drink. He’s at the door ready to come inside with me when I’m done with picture-taking and ready to return to my writing. After finishing off Pele’s breakfast, he asks to go back out. Silly kitty. 

My topic for the day is something I’ve been reading about recently and something I don’t quite get. (Just as I still struggle understanding values.) I don’t strive to be like other artists. I enjoy finding my own way, but I am curious and want to understand how others work.

I’m still not sure how to see what other artists are talking about in a contrasting color under the main color. For instance, I’ve read to put dark purple down before painting in dark greens, lighter purples with lighter shades of green. One artist said to put rust colors under lighter greens. 

I don’t get it. How do they see that? Is this something taught in art schools, a part of technical training I’m missing? 

"Into the Fog" work in progress

Nan talked again about my intuitiveness with painting. I need to trust that. After all, don’t I ask the muses for help? I can’t deny when I pick up the first pastel, my hand starts moving on its own accord putting color onto the paper. Every time I step up to the easel, something guides me during the initial working. It’s like the Muse does the session’s first part and I’m just along for the ride. Then I take over doing touch ups, fixing areas not quite right. 

It does feel like a partnership with the muses. We work together. I’m not aware of an individual muse or muses per se, just a sense of something all-encompassing kind of taking over for a bit. It’s like a wordless conversation, in a way.

Then some days, like yesterday and today, the writing muses visit.

Making my Own Path

  

Pretty color has seeped away, except the purple I see on my deck and the turquoise of the birdbath. There’s pale white-gray of sky, white of house and garage across the brook, dark green of hemlock, gray of tree trunks and rocks, and many shades of browns layered on the ground, in the brook and tucked into crevices.

Shapes, lines and contours stand out against the ground cover. The moss-covered “whale” rock is my favorite in the brook. I call it that because it reminds me of the whale once near the entrance to Salisbury Beach, Mass., and the one once at Yoken’s Restaurant in Portsmouth – except my rock is tailless.

Downed limbs lie in angles over other rocks, and the squiggly lines of exposed tree roots along the far banking get me into doing one of those “Find the___” games as my eyes keep looking to see what else I can notice.

I realize the need for conversation and discussion. For years now I’ve been OK with my solitude. I like being alone most of the time, however, lately I’ve been craving people interaction. And why so much now during these times of social distancing?

Perhaps it’s that – whatever it is within me – that has always made me not tread the exact same path as everyone else. I’ve always strived to do things my way – even in my artwork. And now, being told I have to follow certain protocols and all, I’m feeling rebellious. 

Oh, I understand. I know we have to be careful these days, but I’m so tired of having the pandemic (or plandemic, as I really believe) shoved down our throats constantly. It’s driving me crazy. I feel I want to punch the next person who mentions it.

But, again, I understand. People do need to be reminded to be careful, but how much of it is really necessary and how much of it is fearmongering to control the masses? I see multiple sides and reasonings, and I certainly wouldn’t want to be telling people what to do or not do.

So, back to my following my own paths which is kind of funny because there are certain things like games and law where I want to follow the rules to the letter. That said, there are times when bending the rules seems appropriate. What works for some, doesn’t always work well for others, but as a society, rules and guidelines are necessary.

Have I always had this rebel aspect in me? I did, only I never saw myself as a rebel because I wasn’t like other rebellious people. (Think James Dean of the ‘50s, the hippies of the ‘60s, etc. Not me.)

Here are a few things I remember as I child: Being told I had to color a horse white and I refused because I wanted my horse to have color. If I didn’t think something was fair, I wanted to change it. Back then, girls were supposed to like red for their favorite color, and boys, blue. I didn’t want to like red, so I chose blue as my favorite color. (Years later, I realized I liked yellow better … and purple.) I chose 13 for my favorite number mostly because it was supposed to be a bad luck number and I wanted to prove it wrong.

I didn’t want to play with dolls and I never cared for girl talk. I wanted to be out doing the fun stuff like the boys: climbing trees, exploring the woods, building huts, etc. (When I was an adult, I learned to love women’s gatherings.) I didn’t go ga-ga over Elvis or the Beatles because everyone else did. (I can’t see why people go crazy over any celebrity. Yes, there are many good ones, but for fans to carry on like they do … I just don’t get it. They’re just people doing a job they love and providing entertainment.)

As an adult, even though I fell under some women’s roles and such, I still found ways to carve my own path. It wasn’t always easy. I had few friends. Going against the norm didn’t invite others. There were years when I was miserable, feeling I was doing everything wrong in others’ eyes. But I couldn’t be like them, I just couldn’t. Something within me always drove me onto other paths. Yes, I made mistakes, but I also survived and did the best I could.

Today I am proud at how far I’ve come. I continue to live wholeheartedly as best I can. I have my set of rules I live by. They are not set in stone and I may stray off the path from time to time. Mostly, I push for honesty, integrity, being a good person, mindful of others, respecting others also trying to be good people. (I’ll admit I have no tolerance for those wanting a free ride through life, criminals, and those bent on destruction and hurting other people.)  

 

 

 

Created Equal

Last night’s meditation brought questions and thoughts. Words come to me, and last night, “All men are created equal,” was at the forefront. (Of course, I’ve always taken that as including all people.)  

I’m always thinking about life and humanity. I consider myself fortunate I’m able to see more than one side in situations. (Doesn’t mean I believe in the “other” side, just that I can see how some believe that way.) For instance, at the time of the writing, the men writing believed strongly, but I believe they meant “created equal” only were for men like themselves … white, formerly British, etc.

The statement was on the right track, however, some of their behaviors didn’t live up to what they preached – just like today’s leaders, politicians, and big business people making huge promises to what will never come to good fruition. But I still believe in the Constitution and Bill of Rights. We can't change history and much good came from it.

And so, I wondered, where does “created equal” come from? Think about it. Is it just man impregnating woman and her giving birth? After all, we are not all born into the same types of situations. So how is that equal? How is it even possible to be totally equal? Life itself doesn't allow that, and the government certainly can't give it to us or make it so. (Hell, some of them are so high and mighty, they have no clue really what regular people go through. All they care about is getting votes to keep themselves in power. And history has proved this over and over.)

Is equal supposed to be because we have the opportunity to work for a better life? And here, I can’t even say “same opportunity” because everyone’s circumstances are different. I was born into a poorer side of middle class, but others were born worse off than I or better than I. Some people have an easier go at life, while others struggle. Some are restrained by the family and religious beliefs they grew up with.  Others find the courage to make their own way in the world.

I think this would be an interesting discussion. Not about proving someone else wrong or accusing them about being wrong. It’s not about taking sides. It’s not about cutting someone down who shares a different belief.

It’s about sharing thoughts and allowing one another to voice an opinion. It’s about thinking things over and being courteous.

After a Good Day of Rain

A rainy Saturday morning and at 8:30 a.m., it’s still dark and dreary. I can see glimpses of the brook between the spindles of the deck railing. Two days ago, I had to go out on the deck to see any water as there were only a few puddles pooled between small rocks. Now, with a second day of rain, the water gushes over bigger rocks, its whitewater mesmerizing as it rushes downward on its way to the lake.

Just before moving beyond my sight, at a more level area, the water is a highlighted silvery blue-gray moving over darkness.

Yellowed leaves of the deciduous trees across the brook are now taking on a more orange hue, while the leaves on this side are just now turning yellow creating a mottled look. (These closer trees are surrounded more by bigger hemlock and pine and get less sun.)

I love this view. When I first moved here, I was asked why I didn’t use one of the spare bedrooms for my office/work area. Why would I want to be in a smaller room when I can sit here and have this view? This is my comfort spot, my oasis. When I get stressed, I can take a few minutes and just look out at this beauty breathing in… and breathing out… Ahhh… sigh… so nice.

My attention pulls in as an acorn hits the deck and bounces against the glass slider with a loud crack making me jump. Acorns, small oak branches, and pine needles have been dropping for days and are now joined by pinecones. I hear them hitting the roof before rolling off. Sometimes those acorns hit so hard! Goodness, it’d hurt to get clobbered by one, and I think about that when I’m putting up and taking down the bird feeders.

The purple deck floor makes a contrasting canvas for nature’s work of art. The patterns, textures, and autumn colors grab my attention. I’m intrigued by the randomness of where and how they all land. Some pieces are off by themselves, some are stuck together in small groups, while others clump together in a bigger pile.  I go out with the camera and take a dozen photos. Each photo could be its own framed piece if I so desired.

I took 54 photos, deleted 24. Then when I went to post this, friends from other towns were posting snow pictures. Yikes! Not ready for that.

Sometimes I Just Have to Walk Away and Call It Done

"In Foggy Sunlight," 10 1/2 x 14 inches pastel painting on BFK Rives paper.

Off and on for an hour in the studio. First, I wiped off the lower half to do all the shadows over. Ugh, I hate wasting so much pastel! Then I laid in the grass color with a yellow green and yellow. I added purple to the distant mountains and under the shadows.

The sunlight streaks were such a challenge! I love doing fog, but this one got the better of me. I washed my hands a few times… every time I tried to work with the sunlight streaks. But I continued to struggle with this painting.

I worked and worked and went over and over it. I’m at a loss on how to make it better, and I’m fighting off orneriness. I so wanted to like this, do a good job. It’s just OK. In the end, I went over the sky with white, then defined the tops of the of the trees to lay in front of the sky.

I’m giving up. I have to move on to other paintings. I’m sorry, Toni. I so wanted to honor the photo she gave me permission to use as inspiration.